A Holiday for Lovers: Sort of, Not Really
by MrsEDarcy
Summary: England hated the fourth of July, everybody knew that. But England has a hard time denying America anything, so he ends up in D.C. for the ridiculous celebration anyway. But when he gets there he finds out that the American had a lot more planned than his usual old fashioned American holiday, and that just maybe with some help this could become England's favorite time of year. USUK


**I don't own Hetalia.**

* * *

To say that England was not pleased would be an underestimation. He was veritably pissed at America.

"Please England, I really need you here this year."

That was all he said before hanging up, the utter git. And England wanted to miss the celebration just to spite the brat, but for some strange reason he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Hm. Maybe he'd gone soft after all, not that he'd ever tell France that.

So, he got on the plane anyway after informing his buffoon of a boyfriend exactly where and when he'd be landing. He could only hope the fool had enough brains to come get him from the airport.

The flight was long, arduous, and really why did America have to live so bloody far away? If it wasn't for their monthly world conferences...

But, when he spotted the American, he smiled a little in spite of the misery of commercial flying.

"Arthur," he said waving maniacally the second he spotted his long distance boyfriend. When the Brit finally approached, he pulled him into a big hug and gave him a deep kiss. "I was worried you wouldn't actually come."

He sighed. "Well, love, I'm here now, aren't I?" He tilted the other's head. "So, chin up."

America laughed and peppered a few other kisses over his grumpy partner's face. "Come on, we're going to a hotel tonight, because the White House is really crowded what with the awesome party planning they're doing."

"It's not going to be huge, is it?"

The other grinned sheepishly and England sighed. "Well, I suppose I had better get to this fancy hotel of yours and prepare for tomorrow then."

Nothing in his many centuries of living could have ever prepared the Englishman for what was about to come.

* * *

When he awoke in America's arms, he was still slightly tired. "Love?" he questioned.

"The party doesn't start till five, you can sleep more if you want," America replied tracing his fingers over his lover's arm.

"But, you're already awake."

"I'm okay with just watching you."

England snuggled into America's chest. "What time is it?"

"Noon."

He sat up. "I'm not sleeping in past noon like some kind of bloody teenager Alfred. Plus, don't hotels make you check out earlier than that anyway?"

"Not when you're the country they operate in."

He gave his boyfriend a look. "Isn't there something we can do until bloody five?"

Honestly, England expected to see his boyfriend waggle his eyebrows, but instead the American looked rather thoughtful. "We could go to the Smithsonian or maybe some of the monuments."

"I haven't been to one of your museums in a very long time."

America sat up happily. "Great we can go to the Air and Space Museum and maybe hit up the Natural History Museum."

He nearly bolted out of the bed to where he had laid out his outfit. He started changing and blabbering out something about what they were going to do as England watched him with a little laugh. And a little bit of interest...but mostly laughter.

America was talking so fast, that one might have called him nervous, but the other just chalked it up to pure excitement over his birthday celebration.

But America was nervous, extremely nervous and every guard in D.C. knew it and watched him suspiciously. Not to mention that but he had some sort of weird government issued card that got them through security without having to go through a metal detector.

Despite that, the day was rather fun.

* * *

When they arrived at the White House they were having an argument over whether the Hope Diamond was cursed or not.

"I'm telling you, you bloody idiot, I cursed it before it fell into France's hands." He stopped. "Love, why are there hundreds of people on the lawn of the president's house?"

America laughed. "They're party guests. Today is my birthday you know. Are you getting forgetful in you're old age, man?"

"I mean, why are there more people than there are bloody countries?"

"I didn't invite just countries."

England frowned. "What?"

"Don't worry babe," he said with a laugh pressing a kiss to his lover's head. "They all have top security clearance, I promise."

"You invited bloody humans?" He held his head. "Oi, I need a stiff drink."

"Sorry, it's a no alcohol party. I couldn't have you getting drunk tonight." He grabbed his hand. "C'mon. You haven't even seen the set up yet."

He pulled the very confused England into the midst of the party.

"It's..." the European country looked around the set up. "It's...beautiful America."

Around the fountain there was a band dressed in their military blues, playing a song that was far more Austria's style than America's. There was another band sitting on the building elevated above them. All around them were American flags and England could have sworn he saw some of his own flags mixed in. Not to mention that, but there was a single seat in the middle, away from everything else with a bouquet of roses and surrounded by candles.

"Go, sit down," America said pointing to the chair. "I'll be out in just a second." He pressed a quick kiss to England's hair. "The roses are for you, just don't get up. I have to get something, but I'll be right back. Promise."

England watched his boyfriend disappear and sighed before plopping down in the lone chair.

He scanned the crowd as he played with the roses absentmindedly. The other nations were going about their own business, sometimes shooting glances over at England looking rather confused about what he was doing. Well, at least he wasn't the only one in the dark about what was going on.

Some couples were trying to dance. On one side there was a very hay auburn nation trying to lead around his much more awkward partner who was blushing from head to toe. On the other side, he saw his albino friend leading around a smaller nation that he seemed to be talking about his bird to.

That pair was getting stared at venomously by the shorter partner of another pair who was being lightly held back by his seemingly nonplussed partner who was discussing musical overtures with an otherwise busy conductor.

Then in a quick flurry of movements, the same conductor narrowly missed hitting the interested country in the face as he quieted the instruments.

Then America was there on the balcony, and was he wearing a bloody tux?

"Sup everyone!" he blared over the microphone. "I want to welcome you all to my 238th birthday bash!"

There was well meaning burst of applause in the crowd. "Now, as I'm sure all of you know. That was the day I declared my independence." He sat on the railing. "It was also the day that I broke the heart of one of the most important people in my life."

What was this bloody idiot trying to pull?

"I know what you guys are all thinking, 'Dick move, America." He shrugged. "I didn't know what damage I was causing. I didn't even think about it until the 1800s when one day I woke up wondering what I've done."

America hopped off the railing and started walking down the steps. "Now, I know everyone has seen England in some sort of despair around this time of year one time or another. But not many people know how many times I've gotten nightmares about leaving England alone in the rain. My birthday is one of the hardest times of the year."

"But, sixty-nine years ago, yes Spain I heard you snicker." _Slap! _"Thank you Romano." He sighed. "Anyway sixty-nine years ago, Winston Churchill claimed that the United States and the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland had a special relationship. And boy did you guys find that hilarious."

He leaned back on the railings of the steps. "We were embarrassed and we tried to deny it. It took me until 2002, New Year's, when I finally manned up and asked England out on a proper date." America chuckled good-naturedly. "God, I wish I had done it sooner."

He walked a little closer to the fountain. "We've been dating for twelve and a half years. Wow. If we were humans, that'd be a long time. But we're nations, and it's barely a fraction of our existences. And there's no telling how much bigger of a fraction of my life I wish that dating England had taken up."

America went up to England and planted a kiss on his head. "How are you sweetheart?"

The Brit chose not to mention how much he hated being called sweetheart in public. "Love, what are you doing?"

He held up a finger and squatted in front of his lover. "You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you." England blinked in confusion. "If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more."

"America, what are you doing?"

"Two quotes from one of the best authors to ever call your land home. Two different books. Two men I can never hope to be. Two fictional characters I know you adore."

He sighed. "But I'm not eloquent like them. I trip over my words. I talk with my mouthful. I haven't a clue what a true gentleman is supposed to act like. But I love you, more than anything else in the entire world, yes even burgers. And I don't want July the fourth to always be the day I left you. I want it to be the day I asked you back."

He got down on one knee. "Arthur Kirkland, will you marry me?"

The green eyed nation blinked. He had. Oh my god. He had gotten a ring and everything. It was shiny and silver, God he'd remembered that he didn't really like gold rings and everything. Oh, he supposed he should answer and he did with a shaky nod.

It made him feel better to see America shake a little when he tried to get the ring out of the package and place it on England's finger.

Then England brought the silly boy's face to his and kissed him possessively. "You perfect idiot," he breathed.

Then suddenly a burst of applause came from the crowd, no one quite knowing who started it, but the suspicion lied with France who was sobbing on his flustered companion about how beautiful that was. His beau merely stood there glancing quickly at his boyfriend hoping to God, France wouldn't be expecting something like that.

Then the conductor moved again and as one band began to play the _Star Spangled Banner _the other began _God Save the Queen_, and together they made a furious uncomplimentary sound that was grating to the ears but it was perfect to them.

"The awesome me bets big money on America getting laid tonight!"

_Slap!_

"Hungary!"

"It wasn't me. Your date beat me to it."

He glanced at the person beside him. "I didn't know you had it in you, liebe."

"She's not your liebe!"

"Bruder!"

America chuckled. "I guess we should keep them from ruining the White House lawn." He stole one last kiss before they heard the telltale sign of bullet ricochet. "I'll see you up on the roof for the fireworks."

And with that, the git left England hanging once again. This time he was very pleased indeed.

* * *

**A/N:**

**So I wanted to write a proposal fic for my favorite Hetalia couple. Blame the proposal flash mobs I've been watching on YouTube.**

**In this fic I have also hidden five other couples, so if you want to go through and identify the five couples. If you do it correctly I'll give you a shout out next time I write a Hetalia story.**

**Other than that, I hope this story finds you well and you do something Hetalia relevant for our favorite hero's upcoming birthday.**


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